Awoken (The Lucidites Book 1) (2 page)

Finish them? Does that mean what I think it does?
This man, this parasite, is stealing my family’s ability to dream, causing them to fall into hallucinatory states. And I’m powerless to stop Zhuang if he decides to drain them of their consciousness. Then they’d be shells, sleepwalkers. Dead in no time. A shiver runs down my spine.

Shuman continues, “Zhuang’s plan was to make you panic and surrender to him. It is fortunate we found you first. My guess is your family will hang in limbo. Zhuang’s attention will be on finding you. If you want to help your family then stay away, otherwise he will use them against you. And if you want to release them then you need to fight Zhuang.”

“And win,” I say, doubt oozing all over the words.

“Well, of course.”

“This whole thing makes no sense.” I rub my head with a shaky hand. “Why me? I’m barely old enough to drive. I’ve only known about this mess for a few days. How was I chosen? How am I the best person to face him?”

“I do not know the answers to these questions,” she says, still fixated on the moon.

“Then why should I do this!? Why should I jeopardize my life without knowing why I’ve been chosen?”

Shuman takes one long blink as though contemplating or meditating. Her words are airy and quiet when she finally speaks. “The great Buddha once said, ‘Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.’”

I bite down hard on my lip. So this is the way it is? Either I live my life alone on the streets and watch as Zhuang ransacks humanity’s dreams. Or, option two, I volunteer to kill him and most likely die trying, but my consolation prize will be I’ll know why I’d been chosen. I’ll know who I was and where I could have belonged…if I hadn’t died in Zhuang’s hands. This seems like a scam, although an ingenious one.

A sincere part of me wants to return to my family and shake them until they’re released from their hallucinations. Then we can go on living our lives where the most interesting things that happen are football, church, and barbeques. It’s not a great life for an agnostic vegetarian, but is it better than death? I may be a product of the East Texas soil, but the winds here have never agreed with me. I’ve been looking for a way out of this town, but not like this.

“I cannot grant you any more time,” Shuman says. “I need your answer.”

I scan the surface of the water, looking for nothing in particular. She
can
wait for my answer. She will.

I push my fingers into my eyes and inhale deeply. This duel is inevitable. Zhuang and his challenger’s futures are intertwined. Any attempt to evade the other person will only bring the two together. And somehow I was elected by people I don’t know, for a danger I only recently knew existed. Still none of this makes sense, which is why I know I have to rely on instinct. It’s all I have left. “Fine,” I say a bit pathetically. “I’ll do it.”

A smile would be nice, or maybe a “good for you.” Instead Shuman, who appears to be all business, all the time, begins spouting instructions. “Your next step is to find the Lucidite Institute. Since you are relatively new to dream traveling there are many risks you face.”

No big surprises there.

Shuman continues, “You must dream travel to the Institute while fully submerged in water.”

Um, what?
“Are you serious? I’ll drown.”

“There is that risk, yes, but the only way to enter the Institute is through water. To travel there you must return to your body and then immerse yourself in water. I advise you to
know
you are one with it. It is through this knowledge that you overcome the fear of drowning and focus on the higher task of dream traveling. If you remain calm and focus properly then you will travel and arrive at the Institute. If you are unsuccessful, then yes, you will drown.”

“Oh, is that all? Sounds like a piece of cake.” I’m wondering now if I made the right decision.

Shuman narrows her eyes, but doesn’t respond otherwise.

I rub my temples as an overwhelming pressure erupts behind my eyes. “This is all so strange, it sounds like a recurring dream I’ve been…” My words fall away as the inevitable truth dawns on me. “You put those dreams in my head, didn’t you?” I accuse, staring at her rigid persona.

“The Lucidites are responsible, yes,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact.

“What! That’s insane! That’s awful. Night after night I dreamed I was drowning myself. Do you know how horrifying that is?”

“You should be grateful. We have prepared you for the journey you are about to take. Your subconscious mind has already practiced much of what you are going to do.”

“Grateful!?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought I was losing my mind. I didn’t sleep well for weeks. No. I’m not the least bit grateful. You invaded my subconscious,” I spew, more frustrated now than frightened.

Shuman takes a long inhale and says, “Everything that has been done was to protect you and the future.”

How do I argue with that statement? How do I argue with any of this? I want to run, to abandon this farce which has become my life. However, my instinct is concrete around my legs, pinning me in place, assuring me this is where I belong.

“Roya, we are running out of time,” Shuman says, breaking the silence. “Do you have any questions?”

“Why does it have to be so complicated to dream travel to the Institute? Isn’t there an alternative?”
Like a spaceship or a drug?

“No, there is not,” Shuman says. “The Institute is heavily protected by water. The difficulty it takes to travel there is what makes it the safest place on earth.”

The idea settles over me like a down comforter. Safety. What would that feel like? Every moment has been cloaked with a hidden threat for so long. When the recurring dreams weren’t plaguing me, the paranoia lurked in the shadows and was all but incapacitating. It was almost enough to make me take the pills the therapist kept pushing. Almost.

“If I do all this”—the words drip out of my mouth— “if I don’t drown, then I’ll be at the Institute? I’ll be safe? At least for a little while, right?”

Her eyes jerk away from their focal point. There’s a twitch at her mouth. “Yes.”

I sigh. It’s the first one of relief in a while. “All right then, I’ll do it,” I say halfheartedly.

She turns and faces me, resting her arms across her chest. Around one of her forearms is a tattoo of a rattlesnake. The serpent’s tail lies on her elbow and its head on the back of her hand.

“There is one last thing,” she says, a warning in her voice. “Only Lucidites can enter the Institute. You must want to be one of us, or you will be forbidden from entering.”

I blink in surprise. My mouth opens to voice hesitation, but she disappears, leaving me alone and feeling as though I’m standing on the edge of the earth.

Chapter Two

H
urling myself over the spillway is an intriguing idea. With my luck the fall wouldn’t kill me. I’d only be maimed while still being hunted.

The energy bounding out of my chest is intense. My pacing does little to expend it. I throw my hands through my hair and notice that once again my arms and hands have a ghost-like appearance. I’m guessing my face probably does too.

Ten minutes pass where I do nothing but wallow in uncertainty. I said I would do this, but the actual “doing” part is difficult. There’s one place I need to go before potentially drowning myself. I know they told me not to, but this is probably my last chance.

I stand firm, the cool wind drifting against my cheeks and the back of my hands. With my eyes closed, I experience in my mind the place I intend to dream travel to: Green leaves flicker in the wind, a hammock sways, vanilla wafts from the garden, and familiarity punctuates every single thought. I’m enveloped by innocence, so pure and real. Hands brush long sheathes of grass as the shoreline draws closer. The buoy bobs in the far-off waters. A mountain of books sits in neat stacks, both prized possessions and contraband.

The silver tunnel engulfs me again. I’m moving forward, like on a subway train. But it’s more like I’m the subway train itself, speeding through a claustrophobic passageway. My heart pounds and just when I think I’ll run into something I turn down a different silver tunnel.

My landing is punctuated with a flash and a jolt. I open my eyes to find an angry forest and a darkened house. Even though I stand at the end of the pier, I know it’s risky being this close. I won’t be long.

The tunnel has dumped me in the spot where Trey told me who I was, what I was capable of. I remember thinking then that the Associate Head Official for the Lucidites looked a bit like a young Harrison Ford with his silver hair and turquoise eyes. It’s hard to believe that was only days ago. It feels like months. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t lose the nights to meaningless dreams.

My meeting with Trey was the first time I dream traveled. Bob and Steve had arranged it after giving me the dream travel protocol. They wouldn’t tell me anymore. Said it wasn’t their place. “Just close your eyes and have some faith,” Bob told me. I didn’t believe what happened next was real. Still, Trey knew about the nightmares, about the strange figure I kept seeing in the woods, and why my family was losing their minds.

“We can help you,” Trey said as he dangled his feet over the side of the dock. Our casual sitting arrangement on the pier was absurdly contradictory to how tense the whole meeting was. There I sat with a stranger who was telling me this dream was real. That I was a part of a special race of people. That if the Lucidites didn’t protect me, I’d be murdered. Conversations like that really should happen in a more formal environment.

“How do I know I should let you help me? What if
you’re
the bad guy,” I said to Trey, pinning my eyes on the button of his rolled up white shirtsleeve.

“We’ve been protecting you. Well, the best we could from the dreamscape. I’m sorry we weren’t able to help your family. That all happened too fast.”

“What has Zhuang done to them?” I asked.

“Zhuang has lived for entirely too long because he slips into dreamer’s heads while they sleep. Takes over their consciousness by weakening them, usually by causing nightmares, creating anxiety and stress, or completely severing their ability to achieve REM.”

“But why my family? I get that he’s after me because of some ridiculous prophecy, but they’re totally innocent. They’re Middlings.”

Trey shook his head. Sighed. “It’s not just your family. Zhuang has done this on many levels to thousands for centuries. Sometimes he operates quickly as in the case of a heart attack or aneurism. Sometimes his attacks are slower. Like with a stroke. The ailment takes many forms. And these are some of the conditions Middlings have used to describe what Zhuang does, but you should know the truth.”

“Zhuang’s responsible for all these different diseases?!” I asked horrified by the news.

Trey nodded. “Mostly Zhuang. Unfortunately there are other Dream Travelers who abuse their powers in this way. We are a powerful race of people, capable of destroying Middlings if we choose. For the Lucidites this is not an option. It’s against our laws. We protect. That’s why you should trust us. Allow us to guard you.”

After I awoke from that meeting with Trey, I fully intended to forget his words, his persuasions, and his pleas to allow the Lucidites to protect me. Intentions are flimsy in the face of opposing danger. Determination, on the other hand, is resilient to challenge. It’s the antidote.

Now from my place on the dock, I steal a glance at my home. Since I’m dream traveling, I anticipate that the house will appear different, but it doesn’t. Everyone in there’s asleep, locked in dreamless slumber. I expect to gaze at the house and be bombarded by sorrow. I’m not. It’s like I’m looking at someone else’s home. My family has been ripped away. I’m unable to go home. And all I feel is a hollow ache, but that’s normal. I was born with that.

A snippet of my last conversation with my brother plays in my head. “I don’t know why, but you’re different. You don’t belong in our family. Never have, never will,” Shiloh said before attacking me. True he’d been suffering from hallucinations, but his words stuck with me. So did the bruises.

It was obvious from a young age that I was different from my family in many ways. My fair hair and subdued nature stuck out like a sore thumb among their black manes and toothy grins in all the holiday photos. Eventually my mother made us wear Santa hats, but still she couldn’t force me to smile. And she couldn’t dispel the rumors which had always circulated around town since the first tow hair sprouted from my head.

I was the outcast and I’d always known and accepted this. But when Shiloh used the words “don’t belong,” a darkened corner in my heart grew with illumination. His words should have made me feel rejected. Instead I felt hope.

Shuman’s words from before feel heavier, even more meaningful.
Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth
. My hands are steady now, no longer shaking. Inside me an emotion has risen to a new height. Longing. It has a sound, a color, a taste. It’s sharp, red, pungent. My steady fingers push against my temples, pushing against the longing, but it doesn’t relinquish its hold on my intestines.

One question remains in this confusing web that has become my life. The fire it fuels within me burns slowly, but has the ambition to scorch down an entire forest.
I want to know where I belong.
Sadly, this is the reason I accepted the role as challenger. I want to say it was to save my family, but that’s secondary. Although I haven’t lived long, I know to exist in a world feeling capable of moving mountains and only allowed to dig tiny holes is wrong. I’m determined to understand who I am, why I’m the only Dream Traveler in my family, and why I was chosen to fight Zhuang.

One last look, followed by a loose swallow in my throat. I see the imprint of the house inside my eyelids when they’re closed. Its shape. Its light. Its darkness. I release this place and travel back to my body. Rising, I feel a million miles from where I was seconds ago. This will make the next few steps easier.